


For The Damaged

by marsvin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, DA:I Main Quests, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mommy Issues, Multi, Potential Trauma, Pre-Conclave, Pre-Inquisition, but nothing explicit, implied PTSD because why write nice things when you can have anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsvin/pseuds/marsvin
Summary: When the love of her youth proposed to her, Isobel Trevelyan had thought she had achieved everything a young noble woman of her status could wish for.Little did she know that this proposal would trigger a cascade of events that would change her life drastically.To the better. And the worse.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Trevelyan/Original Character(s), Original Character/Original Character





	For The Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> This story centers around my canon Inquisitor Isobel Trevelyan and mainly follows the events of DA:I, starting before the Conclave  
> It was originally intended to be a collection of one-shots that focus on Cullen/Trevelyan romance and to basically function as an accessory to the DA smut I've written because quarantine got me into DA hell again.  
> >  
> Also English is not my first language and I kinda use this fic to practice writing. So I really hope that there aren't too many spelling or grammar errors

The rusty metal gate that separated Ostwick Cemetery’s discarded northern grounds from the well maintained rest of the park always squeaked – telling every person that happened to be within an earshot that, again, somebody was about to visit the mass-graves that belonged to the scum of society.

Mostly criminals where buried here. Scammer. Rapists. High Traitors. Murderers.

But along the lines of moss-grown stones with slovenly engraved names that people and time tried to forget were bushes and trees with flecks of gold and red and blue. Adorned ribbons that symbolically marked the final resting place of those whose families were too poor to afford a private cremation.

I walked along those line, counting every new ribbon I spotted on my way and felt my throat tighten with every step that brought me closer to my sister’s grave.

Syanna Trevelyan hadn’t been poor. And even though the Circle and my family tried to convince me of the contrary, she hadn’t been a criminal either.

If anything, she had been the victim in her story.

By the time I reached the old knobby oak tree that marked the centre of the graveyard, the rising sun already started to melt away the frost that began covering grass and plants at night – freeing them of their glistening coats.

Thick vines of Crystal Grave coiled around the oak’s mighty trunk like snakes, spawning delicate blue flowers in the warmer month that resembled little bells almost to the point that one could imagine hearing them tinkle in the breeze.

But now that winter was just around the corner, the only tinkling grazing my ears came from the wind chime that accompanied the colourful ribbons hanging from the tree’s old branches.

I ran my stiff fingers through the low-hanging strips of fabric until I found the one my brother and I had chosen for our sister. Cut from the hem of Syanna’s favourite dress.

She had always been stunning in that dress. Midnight blue with silver embroidery along the bodice and hem, that looked as if the seamstress had done her best to weave the very night sky into the fabric.

A gown fit for a queen. Made to accentuate her deep blue eyes that shone bright like sapphires in her heart shaped face, framed by hair as vibrantly black as a raven’s feathers.

As a child, I remember pouting in front of the mirror and cursing the Maker for not giving me the same regal appearance, cursing him for giving me mud-brown eyes instead of sapphire blue and making my black hair look nothing like a raven but more like coals.

My childish jealousy had even got so far that I cut off a strand of Syanna’s hair while she was taking a nap in my room.

I had felt so incredibly guilty that I started crying, her hair in one hand, the scissors in the other. I sobbed so violently, it had woken her up.

Syanna had not yelled at me then. She never had. Instead she had taken my hand and signalled me to sit down with her in front of the mirror, laughing at the sight of her misshaped hair.

_‘I think I’ll leave it like this.’_

I had cried even more at those words, throwing myself into her arms and apologising a million times for my stupid, _stupid_ actions.

I think I had never cried with such vehemence again until the day she had to leave for the Circle of Magi.

And then again when she had left me forever.

I took a deep breath and reached into the pocket of my jacket to dig up the little pebble I’ve been carrying with me since the previous morning, looking around to reassure myself that I was alone.

“I brought something for you,” I said, squatting down to place the stone between two roots, that had fought their way up to the surface.

I squinted as I stood back up again. “Looks a bit like a cat, if you ask me.”

As if in answer, a gust of wind let the wind chime tinkle with excitement. “Knew you liked it.” 

I heaved a heavy sigh.

„So…I- uh…just came to say Goodbye…Aidan and I’ll be leaving for Ferelden in a few hours”, I explained, the lump in my throat growing bigger and bigger at the thought. Of what lay ahead of me.

„The Divine has convoked a Conclave. Peace talks, I guess you can call it. To get the mages and templars to finally come to terms with each other…and maybe end that bloody war. Finally.“

At least I hoped it would.

Following the events of the Kirkwall Rebellion about four years ago, the war between templars and mages had gotten more desperate every day. More brutal. More pointless. With innocent people getting killed in the name of freedom and the Chantry no matter what side they were standing on.

It had become more clear than ever that reforming the Circles was long overdue.

So, maybe now was the time. Maybe that Conclave–that last resort–had the power to initiate that. And to not only lead to peace but also be the beginning of an era where mages could live a life that gave them more choices. A life where they got heard. Where children didn’t get taken away from their families with little prospect of ever seeing them again.

A life that not needed to end the same way Syanna’s had. And even if it was too late for my sister, it might not be for someone else’s.

„Believe it or not, I volunteered to participate as delegate to House Trevelyan. And I wasn’t even drunk when I came up with that idea. Needless to say, mother was thrilled about my newfound enthusiasm for Chantry affairs.“

Finally something about me that wasn’t a complete disappointment to her.

„And I heard our old friend Cara will be joining too. She’ll be representing the Ostwick Circle. It will be strange to see her again, I think. And with Aidan…well, father thought he’d do me a favour if he chose him to accompany me as guard.“

 _Only the best to assure the safety of my daughter,_ father had explained with a wink, gently patting my shoulder before strolling away, a knowing smile on his lips while I tried my best not to scream.

I frowned thinking about it, almost stumbling over the words I was about to say next.

„Aidan, he…he has asked me to marry him.“

There.

The words I hadn’t dared to speak out loud yet. Not to my family. Not even to myself.

The words that had led to nights being spent staring holes into the ceiling of my bedroom, turning from one side to the other and back and waking up with sweat-soaked linen clinging to my body just when I had managed to find sleep after all.

I knew that I should be happy. Damnit, one is _expected_ to be happy when your lover asks you to marry him. I should be.

And I wanted to be. I truly wanted to.

Aidan and I had been inseparable ever since we were children.

He was the son of the Captain of my father’s honour guard and heir to a powerful family that had spawned many great war heroes since the beginning of the ages. Not that I had cared much about that. I still didn’t.

What I had cared about was that I could be _me_ around him. That he understood me.

People had always been teasing us about getting married when we were growing up. An absurd idea, Aidan and I had agreed on that early on.

But after the Blight, when I had come back to Ostwick and had seen him standing there, his dark brown hair sticking to his reddened face because he had run the whole way up to the manor to welcome me…I hadn’t been sure if us being married felt like such an absurd prospect anymore.

He was my first love. My first _everything._

And my best friend still.

But when he had pulled out his mother’s ring and proposed–that hopeful, loving expression in his glistening eyes…he could have as well hit me in the face with a brick.

It had been that moment, I had decided to attend the Conclave.

„I said yes“, I whispered, the words getting lost in another gust of wind that made me shiver.

I had said yes.

And he had picked me up then, whirling me around in the air and kissing me, his beautiful face so full of joy that I had to swallow.

While all I had done was holding on to him in his joy, letting him embrace me and kiss me–my own heart pounding so violently in my chest, I feared I could faint.

Later in bed–still entangled in each others scent and with the sweat slowly starting to dry off of our naked bodies–I wept. Silently, so as not to wake him.

I cried because I just couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. Why his proposal gave me so much anxiety. Why I just couldn’t feel the same happiness that he did.

The only thing I did understand was that I needed to go. That I needed a break or else I would drown.

A break from all of it. Ostwick. My family. Aidan.

To figure out why I couldn’t be happy– why I just couldn’t be _normal_ for once.

So when talks about who was to attend the Divine’s Conclave got louder, I seized the chance to leave without giving people a reason to question it. And I wanted to do it alone.

A selfish plan–I know, but at least I would use my selfishness to do something good as well. If anything, I owed my sister that much.

But plans can change quicker than the weather above the Waking Sea…and now I had to deal with the consequences.

The familiar squeak of the cemetery gate announced a new visitor, interrupting my thoughts.

I quickly wiped away the treacherous tears that had crept their way up into my eyes and straightened my back.

 _Maker, I told him that he didn’t need to pick me up here,_ I thought as I listened to what I assumed to be Aidan’s approaching footsteps. But it wasn’t him who climbed up the hill to the old oak tree, a staff strapped tightly to her back.

It took a moment until I really recognised her but as soon as my old friend looked up, her usual ice-cold expression slowly warming up upon seeing me, I had to suppress the excited scream that wanted to escape my mouth.

To a stranger, Cara Bowen might appear as genuinely unfriendly. Rude even.

Now that I thought about it, I actually could count the number of times I had seen her smile in public on one hand.

Even as a child.

But behind closed doors we would laugh our heads off together, giggling and snickering while ranking the hideous dresses some of the noble girls had worn to our annual Spring Ball just to impress my brother or Aidan. Good times. Carefree.

But now…

„Well, look at you, Isobel“, Cara said when she stepped up behind me, struggling to catch her breath, and pushed back her heavy hood to reveal a mane of thick blonde locks that flowed over her deep-green cloak like molten gold.

She started fanning her flushed face with one of her slender hands, still grinning broadly.„Seems like Circle life did my stamina no favour.“

„You never were the sporty type, Cara“, I chuckled and answered her grin as we stared at each other in wonder– my friend that I hadn’t seen in over twelve years. 

„You didn’t change at all“, she stated, angling her head as if to inspect me closer, squinting a bit. „Your arse got bigger, though“

I snorted. „Charming as ever.“

We looked at each other for a moment, not quite knowing what to do next but just a heartbeat later we both started squealing like we were ten again, falling into each others arms and repeating over and over how good it was to see each other again.

„Well, I think congratulations are in order“, Cara finally broke our joy of reunion, taking a step back and clearing her throat.

„What do you mean?“

„Your engagement? I met Aidan on my way to the docks and he told me.“

Oh. „Thank you.“

Cara furrowed her brow. „Is something wrong?“

„What, no. I am, it’s just…it’s all so fresh, I still can’t really believe it yet“, I said, failing at the attempt at an honest smile.

„I see.“

I quickly looked away, trying to hide my clenched fists in the pockets of my thick coat.

I could feel her stare burning into me. But, to her credit, she didn’t press the matter any further. Instead she sighed and asked, „Shall we go?“

I nodded, taking a deep breath before turning back to the midnight-blue ribbon that gently swayed in the breeze.

„It’s a shame“, Cara said, coming up next to me. „What happened to Syanna.“

She tried to let it sound genuine. But I knew she was just trying to be nice.

„I never thought she would turn out to be a–uh– you know.“

I looked at her, raising my eyebrows.

„A what?“, I asked, watching her shift her wait from one foot to the other. „A thief? A murderer? A suicide?“

Cara opened her mouth as if to say something, but I dismissed the topic with a quick pat on her shoulder as I walked past her.

 _„_ Let’s move. The ship is waiting.“

And with that I stomped down the hill, Cara finally falling into step with me when I reached the gate, holding it open for her to slip through.

_Goodbye, Syanna. Take care of father._

The wind freshened up as we continued our descend to the city, letting the windows and doors of the outskirt’s houses creak and rattle.

I couldn’t explain why the sound made me feel so strange. And it shouldn’t become clear to me until much later.

But when we turned in to the street that would lead us straight to the docks, the strong smell of water and fish already lingering in the early morning air, I knew.

The cemetery gate. It hadn’t squeaked.

And as I walked up to our ship, searching the bustle of sailors and merchants for signs of Aidan or the rest of the crew, I wondered if that could have been an omen.


End file.
